Therefore, I'm Mad
by Lightning Skies
Summary: If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see? - Halloween fic
1. Curiouser and Curiouser

_**Therefore I'm Mad**_

Lightning_Skies

Spoilers: Up to BtVS episode 2.06 – 'Halloween'

Warnings: Slash, Rewrite

Pairings: Spander, Possible Spander+Dru, Canon ships: Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz, Giles/Jenny

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the various works and versions of Lewis Carroll's Alice and Wonderland or anything from the Buffy Jossverse.

"Dialogue"

_Thoughts _

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see? – Alice, Lewis Carroll's _Alice__ in Wonderland_

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= Chapter 1 – Curiouser and Curiouser =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

_I can't believe Snyder forced us to volunteer. Draft is more like it_. _Damn ugly little troll man._ _Wish he was the one my pack ate instead of Flutey._ Xander fumed as he strode into Sunnydale's only goodwill store. Since the arrival of one particular small blonde Slayer on the Hellmouth, he'd found that his clothing had developed an alarming tendency towards being shredded and icked on by various beasties. If there was one thing that he could count on vamps and demons for it was a never ending supply of claws, dust, blood, drool, ichor and fluids better left unidentified- that and their unerring aim, insuring he was always the one who ended up being thrown into things and goo-ed on. It was really quite impressive how the death throes of each monster of the week seemed to consistently carry them within bleeding range of Xander and his clothing.

He had never been the most fashion conscious person around and with a rising nightly death toll on his outfits he was starting to care less and less- so long as he wasn't going to school naked. He really didn't have the money to keep himself in fashion and finery, so Xander had become a common sight in the Goodwill store browsing for cheap and often ugly clothing. He knew the sections and layout of the store fairly well by now.

He was heading over to the ever present Army surplus section to grab some fatigues for a quick and easy soldier Halloween costume that could later double as slay wear when he saw IT.

IT was the most hideous thing he had ever seen, and if Cordelia and Buffy's usual comments on his tastes in fashion were any indication, the fact that he noticed its complementary-and-yet-still-clashing colors meant the shirt was even uglier than hideous. IT was also on the super sale display- the death row rack of clothes, the stuff no one in their right mind would ever purchase to wear. The garments that had been marked down, prices slashed, put on sale, reduced, closed out, on clearance and then re-negotiated to the point they were pretty much given away. IT was also perfect.

He could see the plan for a unique and interesting costume unfold in his mind. Soldiers were a dime a dozen anyway, this was his chance to do something different. Not to mention it fit his personality as a jokester to a T. He snickered at his pun as he grabbed the long sleeved pink and purple striped monstrosity of a T-shirt from the rack and headed for the register.

A few minutes and fifty cents later Xander was walking home, the proud new owner of an awesome Halloween costume-to-be. Maybe this volunteering thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Buffy sighed in frustration. She had spent the last short eternity trying in vain to get Willow to see the merits of not drowning herself in a sheet. The redhead had a nice body when it wasn't smothered in oversized sweaters, frumpy bohemian blouses or overalls that the Slayer hadn't known even came in sizes other than toddler and farmhand. It may just be the dying remnants of the head cheerleader in her, but she felt that it was her duty to see that the wilting wallflower grew into the self assured and attractive woman she could be. Some days it felt more impossible than others. Today was a good example of that.

"You're never gonna get noticed if you keep hiding." She eyed the prepackaged ghost costume clutched tightly to the budding hacker's chest in distaste as she attempted to reason with her friend. Logic was, after all the way to a geeky brainiac's heart as she had come to learn over the course of their friendship. "It's come as you aren't night. Halloween is the night that not you IS you- but not YOU, ya know?"

She rethought her statement in confusion, she'd lost the plot somewhere in the middle of that sentence. Her musing was cut off when Xander joined them and Buffy felt her chances to make her point slip away as Willow desperately changed the subject to his nondescript brown paper bag. "Hey, Xander! Whadja get?"

It looked like while she'd been spending all her time trying to convince Willow to do something fun, he'd already finished shopping. She hadn't even started looking for herself yet. Maybe seeing what he'd gotten would give her some ideas. She was actually kinda surprised when all he pulled out was a set of purple cat ears and a tail. "That's not a costume."

He gave her a 'duh' look, "I've got the rest of my outfit at home. Just call me the 5$ costume king."

She returned his look flatly, "You're going to be a cat?"

"Ah, but not just any cat. I'm going to be THE cat. The greatest feline of them all. Better than Mister Mistoffelees even."

Buffy's expression remained insultingly incredulous about the awesomeness of being a cat, but now there was an added note of confusion about the reference. Willow rescued her from having to respond when she stepped in with a reprimand, "Xander, you haven't been watching all those old taped musicals again, have you? You know how much you hate it when you get 'If I Were a Rich Man' stuck in your head."

He made a disgusted face. "'All day long I'd biddy-biddy-bum' is not a real song. It's like they wrote half of it and then just gave up. Is it so wrong to ask that my songs have a full set of lyrics, not a nonsensical mish-mash of words and baby talk."

Willow puffed up a bit at that. "Some of it is real words you know. Yiddish is not baby talk, mister."

"Sorry, Wills. But you've got to admit, it's pretty much the singular funniest sounding language out there. It all either sounds like you're about to hock a loogie or cough up a hairball. Not even Buffy's French is that bad."

"Alexander LaVelle Harris. You stop insulting my heritage right now." Buffy couldn't help but notice that Willow hadn't argued with what he'd said- only that he'd said it.

Xander probably went on to defend himself or at least protest the public use of his dreaded middle name, but Buffy ignored him, attention focused elsewhere. The kids in the back of the store had jostled one of the rolling racks as they pawed through the costumes. It had only moved about a foot, but it was enough for her to glimpse a vision of fake pink silk and taffeta beyond it. It was as if one of the beautiful dresses she'd seen in Giles's watcher diaries about Angel's human days had stepped right off the page.

Already she could imagine Angel's reactions to her in this dress. He would be speechless, well, he really didn't talk much anyways- but she'd be able to see the surprise and delight in his soulful brown eyes. He'd know that she picked this costume just for him and unable to keep his hands to himself he would wrap her up in his strong arms and oh-so-perfect Cordelia would be the farthest thing from his mind. It would be a real chance to feel normal again, just a girl and her date, even if it would be the vision of a date from the 1700s.

Tonight was going to be perfect.

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Spike was busy watching and re-watching the moving pictures of the newest Slayer he'd gotten from one of the minions. He would get all full of excitement and passion when he was on the hunt. Drusilla shivered in delight. Her darling William wanted to kill another Slayer for her, he was always so sweet like that. It was the fiery fish that swum about in his tummy. But he didn't know. Her lovely Spikey couldn't see what was coming; he always ignored the stars no matter how loudly they shouted. Miss Edith said that he was too stubborn and willfully deaf to hear, but that was alright. Drusilla was a good little girl who always attended to her betters and did what she was told. She could listen for the both of them.

"Everything's switching, outsides to insides. It makes her weak."

And just like that she had his full attention. Her Spike may not listen to all the others, but he never ignored her. He was there for her always, not like Daddy, who'd gone away with the bad light burning in his chest. Gone all away, her family, left alone but never without her William. "Really? Did my pet have a vision?"

"Do you know what I miss? Leeches."

"C'mon. Talk to Daddy. This thing- that makes the slayer weak. When is it?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Halloween. Nothing ever happens on Halloween." She hugged Miss Edith to her chest. She could feel his disbelief, it always hurt so good when her Spike didn't believe her. Shiny daggers to her heart, stabbing and slicing. Drops of lifesblood flowing from the wounds like little pieces of delicious cherry confetti.

"Someone's come to change it all," Drusilla tilted her head to hear Miss Edith's whispers more closely. "Someone new. And he brings the Dark Kitten with him."

"Forget the kitten, if the Slayer's gonna be weak I need to be ready." She watched the blonde walk away sadly. Her Spike always listened, but he never heard. Everything would be alright; after all if he knew where the rabbit hole was he might decide to jump over it instead of into it, he was naughty like that. It didn't matter though. Even though her Spike didn't see it, the future was full of tea parties, oysters and a Hatter gone mad.

"Oh, but my Spikey the Dark Kitten is the most important of all. Alice won't find him until he stops chasing the White Rabbit. Come Miss Edith, we must find the fine china, wouldn't be proper to serve the guests without it."

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

_Ugh, maybe I should have just gone with the fatigues, or at least tried the shirt on before I bought it. Stupid impulse buying._ Xander grumbled to himself as he tugged on the bottom hem of his shirt for what seemed like the thousandth time in the half hour since he'd put it on. In his excitement and geek-gasm over dressing like one of his favorite childhood Disney characters he had forgotten to check the size of the tee. It was two full sizes smaller than he'd normally be comfortable with.

Luckily, his clothing was usually about a size and a half too big, so the shirt was only skin tight- not fully constricting his breathing or anything, it just left him feeling really exposed. Being a typically self-conscious and awkward teen, Xander wasn't all that relaxed about showing off his body- it's not like he was a model or had muscles to be proud of or anything. His normal clothes consisted of loose fitting tees with even looser billowing over shirts. With his costume fitting him like a second skin and insistently riding up to show his stomach and hips he felt like one of those fat kids that refused to acknowledge their muffin top. He didn't think he was too bulgy around the middle, but this was California, self proclaimed land of the shallow. God only knew if his body fit into the socially acceptable category. What if everyone was looking at him like he was one of those saggy people who thought spandex was acceptable daywear.

He didn't even realize how girly his internal monologue was. Being best friends with the estrogen brigade had apparently been hell on his manly ignorance of all things fashionable and social. Instead he tried to just focus on how he was only wearing the shirt once and people would be more forgiving about wardrobe malfunctions and fashion taboos on Halloween. He could burn the outfit later.

Stealing himself for the inevitability of failing the Buffy Test he stepped up to the Summers household and rang the bell. He just knew she was going to notice how terribly the shirt fit him. Hopefully she wouldn't torment him too much.

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Buffy looked at her image, standing side by side with a very sexy Willow in the mirror. They looked great. She'd been skeptical about her wig, but after all the styling she'd done it looked fantastic. She almost considered letting her natural brunette grow back in, but dismissed the thought quickly. She adjusted her necklace as Willow stared in shock at her own reflection before gently pulling the ex-wallflower's (if the blonde had any say in it) arms away from where they'd crossed her stomach defensively.

Buffy had finally managed to get her way and the redhead was dressed in a skintight black pleather skirt and wrap around crushed red velvet top with a plunging neckline that ended just under her bust. The diminutive Slayer was actually a little jealous. She wasn't tall enough to pull the look off; her torso just wasn't long enough to bare the midriff like that. She'd carefully done up a set of sultry eyes and luscious red lips for her cosmetically challenged friend and voila, presto-chango Willow Rosenberg was a real girl. A very pretty real girl at that. _I do such good work._

Her self congratulation on a job well done was interrupted when the doorbell rang. "Oh, that's Xander. Are you ready?"

"Yeah. O-o-okay." Getting over the initial shock of seeing herself in the mirror, Willow looked slightly less like she was going to run away screaming or faint, but not by much. She still had really wide deer-in-headlights eyes, but she'd get over it.

"Cool! I cannot wait until the boys go all non-verbal when they see you."

Buffy bounced down the stairs, enjoying the flounce of her voluminous skirts and underskirts as they swished around her legs. She pulled open the door and stopped short when she saw what was standing on her front porch wearing a crooked smile.

Xander really had chosen to go as a cat. The purple ears sat jauntily and a little crookedly on his head and the tail was no doubt swinging merrily behind him. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and boots, but what really drew her attention was the shirt.

Normally, Xander suffered the same hiding in fabric syndrome as Willow, choosing to cover up in loose unflattering clothing, but this was totally different. The shirt he'd chosen was terribly ugly, with alternating fuchsia and purple stripes, but it fit him perfectly and left very little to the imagination. It hugged surprisingly well toned stomach muscles and stretched tight across his previously un-admired and quite drool worthy chest. The absolute best part was the way it was just slightly too short to reach his jeans, tauntingly bearing a sliver of sun tanned flesh. He looked like he'd just stepped off a poster or out of a magazine. A cat fetish magazine, but still. _Hello, salty goodness. Who knew Xander was actually kinda hot._

As she continued to stand in the doorway staring, Xander tugged at the bottom of the shirt nervously and deflected her attention by cracking a joke. "Buffy, Lady of Buffdom, Duchess of Buffonia. I am in awe. I completely renounce spandex."

Shaken out of her ogling, the blonde smiled at her friend and curtsied, trying out a false accent that ended up somewhere between English and Southern. "Thank you, kind sir."

He gave a matching bow and she giggled before turning to the stairs. "But wait until you see… Casper."

Willow had apparently chickened out at the last moment, because all of Buffy's hard work was standing before her, smothered in a white sheet. Luckily, Xander seemed to sense her disappointment and stepped in, tsking in disapproval, "Oh, this won't do at all. The lady is as white as a sheet. Perhaps we should visit the cards, I had heard rumor they are experts at painting the roses red."

The situation was suitably disarmed as they all laughed.

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Finally all of his planning and preparations were complete. In just a few moments there would be such delicious chaos on the Hellmouth and Ripper's attention would be drawn. Ethan smiled, cold and deadly as a shark. Tonight would be spectacular. He couldn't have planned it better and was oh so very pleased when that blonde bint of a Slayer had chosen to take the gown. With a useless charge Ripper would be disgraced in the eyes of the Watchers Council. When the girl and her uptight keepers were finally out of the picture Ethan could step in to pick up the pieces and convince Ripper to return to the old ways. Rupert Giles was never meant to be a bloody librarian and starting tonight he would prove it.

With quick movements he sliced a dagger across both palms, groaning in pain as he pushed against the cuts until blood began to flow freely down his wrists. The circles were drawn, the ritual candles were lit and the statue of Janus sat in its proper place on the altar.

"The world that denies thee, thou inhabit."

Dabbing a finger through the pool on his left palm he anointed his eyelid with blood, and then again on his other eye.

"The peace that ignores thee, thou corrupt."

Using the remaining blood on his finger he sketched a rough cross on his forehead and stared deep into the eyes of the statue representing his god.

"Chaos, I remain as ever thy faithful, degenerate son."

He could feel the energies in the room rising and swirling about, just waiting to be given purpose and form. The air fairly hummed with the sheer power of it. He was all too happy to direct it to its destined function. Settling into a light trance he delved deeply into the magic around him and started chanting.

"Janus, evoco vestram animam. Exaudi meam causam. Carpe noctem pro consilio vestro. Veni, appare et nobis monstra quod est infinita potestas. Persona se corpum et sanguium commutandum est. Vestra sancta praesentia concrescet viscera. Janus! Sume noctem!" [Latin – _'__Janus, I invoke your spirit. Hear my plea. Seize the night for your own reason. Come, appear and show to us that which is infinite power. The mask transforms itself into flesh and blood. Your holy presence curdles the heart. Janus! Take the night!_']

With the shouted end of the intonation the ritual candles guttered as the magic rushed out of the room in a torrent and swept the Hellmouth, taking hold of the costumes the mage had sold and changing their bearers. Deep satisfaction filled him as he felt his will being done across town.

"Showtime."

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

"Oh, dear. Am I out? I could have sworn I had more." The elderly woman leaned down to speak to the disappointed kids at her door. "I'm sorry Mister Monster but-"

She was cut off as the now authentic small green goblin looking creature grabbed her by the throat and started shaking her. The other kids, unaffected by the magic, wasted no time and ran away screaming.

"No! Let her go!" Willow watched in horror as the small devil she'd been accompanying all night charged the goblin, who was still throttling the older woman. The surprise attack shocked the green demon into releasing his victim, who wasted no time running into her house and slamming the door, locking the chaos outside. Having lost its prey the goblin turned to grapple with the angry red devil.

"Stop. What are you doing? Stop!" Willow sucked in more air to yell louder at the children-gone-demon who were ignoring her when her chest restricted painfully. She reeled back against the house gasping and coughing, but couldn't seem to fill her burning lungs. "Can't breathe."

She slumped to the porch limply as her oxygen deprived heart stuttered to a halt. A moment later she lurched upright again, but her corporeal form remained stubbornly still and lifeless beneath her.

"Oh my god! I'm a real ghost?" She felt a little sick (and wasn't that weird without a body) as she stared at the way her legs faded into the fallen flesh that she used to inhabit. She couldn't even see her feet. Her distress was interrupted when she faintly heard someone singing over the sounds of chaos, and as she concentrated on the song it steadily grew louder.

"_`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves,_

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe."_

"Xander?" She quickly stepped out of her fallen body and rushed towards the familiar voice.

_"All mimsy were the borogoves,_

_And the mome raths outgraaaaaaabe."_

She quickly found him, dancing and tumbling acrobatically around in the street. He hadn't noticed her yet. "Xander!"

He turned to her, continuing to hum jovially. Willow almost took a step back in shock. Apparently she wasn't the only one going through some major changes tonight. Xander's eyes were glowing with an odd yellow light and his hair, which was even wilder than usual, had turned bright purple (even his eyebrows) to match his realistic looking and twitching- Oh God, the tail and ears were real. Her usually-Xander-shaped friend was a real life catboy.

As if they'd heard her thoughts the ears rotated to fix on her position and the tail curled up over his shoulder appearing for all the world as if the striped tip were looking at her curiously. His shirt had somehow melded with him, transforming into a furred pelt that disappeared into his jeans. At some point he had also lost his shoes and socks and now sported clawed toes and fingertips. Even as she watched he couldn't seem to contain his exuberant energy, bouncing and weaving constantly on the balls of his feet.

"Well, hello there! And good Xander to you as well." A huge and very nearly anatomically incorrect smile split his face almost in half as unnaturally bleached teeth shone at her in the night.

"Xander quit messing around; this is no time for jokes."

"I find that anytime is a good time for a joke, no time is best of all. Would you like to hear one?"

"No! I don't want to hear a joke. We have bigger problems right now."

"There is no bigger problem than the loss of one's sense of humor. Perhaps we can still find it. Where did you last put it down?" He cocked his head to the side and smiled at her in pity.

"I didn't- You don't know me, do you?" There was no recognition in his unsettling eyes at all. He was just humoring a total stranger.

"How well can one really ever know another?" He vanished and reappeared behind her, "After all if your thoughts were in everyone else's head, your own would be quite empty."

"Oh, god. You're really the cat."

"The Cheshire Cat. At your service." He confirmed with another overlarge smile and twirled into a low bow.

"But the Cheshire Cat was… Xander, you're not crazy now are you?"

"I had noticed that you aren't all there yourself." Her cat-shaped-friend walked casually through her, making her shiver a bit at the tingling sensation. It was like a breeze had blown through her, touching everything inside rather than stopping at the skin. She couldn't deal with this. Xander was being weird, she was very possibly gulp-dead and there was total madness (pun not intended) on the Hellmouth. They needed the Slayer.

"Ok, don't panic. We just need to find- Buffy!"

_Oh, thank god._ Willow raced towards the familiar brunette wig of her friend, hoping the Cat would be curious enough to follow along behind her.

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= TBC =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

A/N:

I googled the spell and translation, but forgot to write down where I got it from.

Distribution: FFN (Lightning_Skies), Twisting the Hellmouth (LightningSkies)

Author has given no other permissions.

4,058 Words - 9 Pages – 08/13/09


	2. We're All Mad Here

_**Therefore I'm Mad**_

Lightning_Skies

Spoilers/Warnings/Pairings/Disclaimer – See first chapter

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= Chapter 2 – We're All Mad Here =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

"Buffy! Thank god we found you. Something crazy is happening. The kids all turned into monsters and attacked each other and Xander doesn't know who he is- he thinks he's a cat and I was dressed as a ghost and now I'm a real ghost and I think I might be dead and I don't know what to do. What do we do? Tell me what to do." Willow babble seemed to be super powered now that she lacked the need to gasp for breath periodically. She had only stopped so that she could hear whatever professional words of wisdom the Slayer might provide.

"Demon!" Buffy screamed, pointing at the glowy-eyed Xander-cat. Or more accurately at where he had been standing, watching them with interest.

In an instant a duplicate had popped up behind the transformed Slayer, cowering behind her shoulder looking intently at the copy she was pointing at even as the afterimage unraveled and faded away with a cheery wave. "A demon? Here? That's ever so strange. Are you really quite sure?"

In that very moment the strong and courageous Slayer, who had faced down and defeated the Master himself, did what came naturally to her- she shrieked and fainted dead away.

Willow glared at the Xander-cat. He had been standing right next to Buffy when she fainted and hadn't bothered to try and catch her, instead watching passively as she swooned, even going so far as to vanish his body below his waist so she wouldn't land on his feet.

"Did you really have to scare her like that?"

"I don't have to do any of the things that I do, which is why I enjoy choosing to do them ever so much. Obligation and responsibility aren't any fun at all. I avoid them whenever possible."

"Well, at least now I know you're still Xander." Willow muttered under her breath as her furry friend lost interest in the downed girl and went to bother a nearby kid-demon. He was bouncing around the irritated scaly munchkin, evading swipes of its claws and vanishing parts of his body when he couldn't dodge. "Yeah, you just go play taunt the vicious man eater. Next thing you know it'll be time to run around in traffic and run with scissors."

Buffy regained consciousness with a delicate moan. The sound attracted the Cat's attention and he froze for a moment, ears perked and then appeared beside Willow as they peered down at the prone noblewoman. With her over-reactions she was far more interesting than any old demon.

"Buffy? Are you okay?" Willow knew with a sinking certainty that neither of her friends was going to be any help in this situation, and even worse she was going to have to be the one to protect them both (probably from themselves) and somehow save the day- night, whatever. When the brunette opened her eyes, and looked at Willow, there was no sign of recognition.

"Why do you persist in calling me Buffy?" 'Princess Slayer' as Willow mentally dubbed her, demanded imperiously, reminding the one still sane Scooby far too much of Cordelia.

"She's not Buffy." Willow turned to the Xander-cat for some sort of confirmation, sympathy- something.

"Is a Buffy like a Xander? Animal or mineral? Are such things edible? Of course they're edible, everything's edible. The important question is whether you'll regret eating it later." She rolled her eyes, why had she thought he might be any sort of use here.

Turning to see who was talking, Buffy lurched back with a squeak and looked ready for another round of narcoleptic Slayer.

"Buffy, its okay. He won't hurt you. We're your friends."

"I beg your pardon. I know not this Buffy. I am the Lady Elizabeth and I am quite certain that I have never associated myself with a low born street woman such as yourself." Buffy stood up carefully with perfect posture and a regal air and gave Willow's outfit, the one she'd forced the redhead into, a look of utter disgust. She was obviously focusing on the more mundane problems and totally ignoring the oddness that was the Xander-cat.

Seeing that he wasn't getting a reaction the Cat shrugged and vanished with a grin, off to find a more interesting diversion. His overly bright teeth and eyes seemed to be the last things to fade out. There was no way for Willow to keep Xander in one place even if she had been tangible, and he seemed to be dealing with the demon outbreak just fine, so she just let him go and decided to concentrate on the friend she could help.

"Alright, I apologize for being so forward, my Lady. I am merely trying to help. What's the last thing you remember?" Willow figured the best way to get 'Elizabeth' to cooperate would be to soothe her pride; otherwise she was likely to be stubborn and difficult. Years of dealing with Cordy had taught her that this particular personality type was really easy to manipulate as long as you kept them happy. With all the fawning she knew was going to be needed she felt like she'd voluntarily joined the Cordettes or something, it was a very slimy icky feeling.

"I was returning to my family estate after the Governor's All-Hallows Eve Ball. How did I come to be here? The last thing I recall was being in father's carriage."

"Okay, that's good. Do you know that year it is?"

"1776, of course. Are you really so uneducated?"

Willow grit her teeth against her anger at the sheer arrogance of the noblewoman possessing her friend. Thinking quickly she came up with a lie that might keep her quiet. "I was simply checking your memory. You were in an awful carriage accident and hit your head. Quite often when someone has hurt their head, they might see strange things or even forget who they are. Your footman has gone on ahead in order to locate help and has asked that we be the ones to take care of your needs until he returns."

"Yes. I had heard that the shock of such violent happenings have been known to addle the wits. It is truly lucky that I am no weak willed woman to be deceived into panic." Willow wisely chose to ignore the screaming and fainting and hoped that Buffy's denial lasted until she was normal again.

"We should get you inside my lady, the fall night is chill and you have no shawl or cloak." Willow was glad for all the cheap historical fiction romance novels she'd read. Not that she'd ever admit to anyone that they were her source material for talking like someone from the 18th century. Not even Xander knew about her guilty recreational reading. "I know of a residence nearby where we might rest ourselves."

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Spike was wandering the town reveling in the chaos. He wore his full vampire face and no one even took notice. It was quite liberating. Some sort of strong magic had swept over the town and he watched in amusement as half the population of Sunnyhell transformed and turned on the other half. The streets were teeming with demons, monsters, aliens and other assorted creatures that hadn't ever walked the earth before tonight. Screams and animalistic cries echoed around him. It reminded him of the Boxer Rebellion and the night he'd taken his first Slayer. With a grin he decided that he might just be nostalgic enough that tonight he'd go for his third. It had a poetic feel, that the setting for both deaths would be so similar.

"Well, this is just neat. Can't wait to see what the Slayer's wearing tonight. Won't be no duster, but it should be plenty amusing all the same."

He had just passed by what looked like a group of Ewoks barbequing someone's dog when he saw the entire Universal Studios monster lineup (ala Karloff and Legosi) chasing a bad acid trip wearing black jeans. Whatever species their prey was, it appeared to be mostly humanoid with big pointy purple ears, a long tail and bright pink stripes. He watched for a moment as the mystery creature easily outran the stumbling monster pack, hanging back just enough to keep them in the chase. The bloody thing didn't want to get away he noted with some amusement. It was playing with the little slaggers, leading them on for fun.

The Slayer could wait, this was amusing. Spike lit up a cigarette and followed the chase down the street. Curious, he watched the very one sided game as the feline figure ran circles around the increasingly frustrated movie monster classics, before running straight up the trunk of a nearby tree, paying no mind to gravity and the like. The transformed kids circled the tree, growling and scratching, but ultimately unable to climb up after their prey. Frankenstein's monster and his bride grabbed the trunk and shook, but nothing fell from the branches.

"Well, shows over then." He dropped his ciggy and ground it out with his boot. He wasn't environmentally conscious or any of that rot, but lit fags were known to spark up fires and vamps made nice tinder if they weren't careful. He turned to continue on his Slayer hunt, only to find himself staring into glowing yellow eyes less than an arms length away.

With a snarl he jumped back into a defensive position, eyes darting over the figure in front of him. No one had gotten the drop on him like that for decades. He hadn't heard or smelled anything and had no idea how long the purple cat-boy had been standing- hang on. He glanced at the tree, most of the mini monsters had lost interest and scattered. But the wolf man and ugly bloke from the black lagoon were still clawing at the trunk.

Looking back at the feline, he noted that it hadn't made any move to attack. It cocked its head at him, "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!"

Straightening up, Spike took a closer look at the transformed human, the kid looked familiar. He imagined the face, muscled chest and tight stomach in a nicely tanned golden color instead of fuchsia and mentally toned down the bright yellow eyes and purple hair to a dark chocolate brown. In a flash it came to him. It looked like the boy had been hiding quite the body behind that ridiculously clownish kit of his. He let his game face smooth out and smirked at the teen. "Well, if it ain't the Slayer's sidekick. You're looking a right treat, whelp. Got yourself all caught up in the mojo did you? Whatter you s'posed to be then?"

A giant grin spread over the boy's face. "Well that depends entirely on whether or not I am what I'm supposed to be. Supposing I'm not what I was before and aren't what I will be or shall be. I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"

"Sounds as if you've gone right round the bend then." Spike studied the transformed human. "Hang on a mo'. Ye'r obviously barking mad-"

"As a hatter."

"-ye'r quoting Jabberwocky at me-"

The boy's grin grew even larger, "So rested he by the Tumtum tree, and stood awhile in thought."

"-and you've got bloody cat ears and a tail. Ye'r the great sodding Cheshire Cat."

With a flourish the striped boy bowed low to the amused vampire. "'You are old, Father William,' the young man said, 'and your hair has become very white.'"

"Was gonna ask you real nice like to lead me to the Slayer bint, but s'not likely I'll be able to get a bloody straight answer out of you now is it?"

"Oh, there's nothing straight about me. Everything is bent and crooked and curvy and twisted and it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then." As Xander-cat ran his clawed hands down his torso his form shifted, strong shoulders and waist narrowing, chest, hips and ass plumping out. For a moment the cat-boy was a cat-girl, but then his hands moved away and his body returned to normal, or whatever passed for it tonight. Spike blinked quickly, wondering if the boy had really just transformed himself into a woman or if it was an illusion. Interesting trick, that.

"I'm not very stable or balanced, some days I go off my rocker entirely." The boy fell slowly to the side, impossibly resisting the normal pull of gravity. He took up an enticingly erotic lounging position, floating in mid air. "It's so hard being me." With an exaggerated yawn, the Cat gave a long slow full body flex, rolling out each muscle individually the way only a feline could. Spike could hardly tear his eyes away from the rippling pelt. He would have pounced on the boy already, but the small bit of the book loving William left in him reminded him of how easily the Cheshire Cat could vanish.

"Yeah, you're a right treat, pet, but I'd had my heart set on tearing into the Slayer tonight. Maybe I'll come back for you later. When you're back to human, don't fancy you up and disappearing on me right as things get interesting."

"To find what you seek, don't search anywhere you know it's not. Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction. After all, if you don't know where you are going, any road will take you there. The journey is half the battle." With a wink, the cat began humming and leapt down from his invisible perch, floating down to touching the ground gently. He grabbed his tail and used it as a jumping rope, disappearing mid swing. His ghostly voice echoed even after he left.

"_`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves,  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe."_

Spike stared for a moment longer, then shook his head in bemusement. "Only in Sunnyhell."

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Angel moved silently through the anarchy that had taken hold on the Hellmouth. He made his way quickly to the Summer's house, hoping to find Buffy or at least the rest of the Scoobies. He was relieved to see the lights on and let himself in through the backdoor. Making his way into the living room, he found Buffy engulfed in a horrifically large pink dress arguing with a scantily dressed Cordelia with cat ears and whiskers painted on her face.

"Oh, good! You guys are alright. It's total chaos out there."

Buffy turned to him in confusion, "Who are you?"

"What? Did I miss something? Does somebody want to fill me in?" Angel blinked at his usually affectionate girlfriend; the magic that lay heavy in the air must have affected Buffy as well as the rest of the town.

Ignoring his question Lady Elizabeth decided that he was going to hear her grievances, because the duty of seeing to her needs was currently being shirked by both maids. She would have words with her father about this and neither woman would ever work as a handmaiden again. They were obviously not to be trusted with such high responsibility. "Is this your residence? I find that it is rather small and shoddily furnished. It is hardly a suitable resting place for a Lady such as myself, for even a small time."

"What are you talking about? I don't live here, you do. Buffy, are you okay?"

She just sniffed disdainfully, "As I told that red haired harlot earlier, my name is not Buffy. You will address me as Lady Elizabeth or not at all."

Cordy rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Oh, get over yourself." She turned to Angel with a bright smile, "Hi. There's this whole thing where she's got a princess complex and doesn't remember how socially pathetic she really is. Willow went to find Giles and see if he has any genius ideas, since your mystical warrior girl is currently more useless than normal."

Buffy huffed at the insult, even if she didn't quite understand it. "I will not get over anything for someone as low born as yourself." She turned to Angel, "You should see to your hiring practices. The maids you have now obviously need to be replaced, they are rude and common and I don't like them at all."

"Did you just call me a maid?" Cordy screeched.

Angel wondered if it might be a better idea to just sneak out quietly as the girls fought and hide out in his apartment for the rest of the night. He might be remorseful about his past and working for redemption, but he didn't think he should have to subject himself to getting in the middle of an almost literal catfight. He was about to take his unlife in his hands and brave interrupting the girls when a movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye.

A paw print had just appeared in the middle of the far wall, and as he watched, ignoring the still bickering girls, another appeared, followed quickly by a third and a fourth. A whole trail of prints walked their way down the wall and onto the floor, heading straight for them, but Angel couldn't see, hear or smell anything in the room with them. He positioned himself protectively in front of the girls and tensed, ready for anything as they finally noticed and fell silent.

Just a foot or so away the footprints split and circled around them, rejoining on the other side and continuing on. The prints stopped and Xander appeared, bare clawed feet planted firmly in the last of the footprints. Illogically, he was standing backwards in the prints, facing the trio instead of away from them.

Cordy gaped at him without a trace of her usual calm elegance. Buffy was pale and gasped shallow breaths rapidly. Angel just stared stoically at him as he looked around briefly and studied them with a bright grin. "A girl in a cat suit and a man in a monster in a man suit? Oh, I do so love this place."

Angel was the first to break out of his stupor. "Xander? How did you- Do you have a tail… and ears? Are your eyes GLOWING?"

Xander crossed his eyes, as if trying to check them for illumination. "I do so hope my ears and tail are still there. I would be ever so upset if they had run off without me. And who is to say that I have ears and a tail, perhaps it is more accurate that my tail has ears or that my ears have me. As to how, I should like to think that it was that I was born with them, or possibly acquired them along the way."

"But what **are** you?"

"It is important to be what you would seem to be -- or, if you'd like it put more simply -- Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."

Cordy eyed him speculatively, noticing that aside from the fur, he was pretty much shirtless. He actually looked half decent for once, but she would never admit to that out loud. "Purple and pink are so not your colors, dweeb boy."

"I have a color? Do tell, if not purple or pink, then what color is my color? Is it a nice shade of argyle, perhaps a hue slightly more polka dot than stripes? Perhaps a simple plaid?" Xander-cat canted his head to the side and blinked his big yellow eyes owlishly at her.

Whatever words of fashion wisdom on the relative un-simplicity of plaid or comment of undiluted snark Cordelia had been about to provide, she was cut off when a snarling overgrown lizard broke in through the large front window in a shower of glass. Buffy jumped behind the cheerleader with a cry and clung to her as Angel dove onto the monster knocking it to the ground.

"Quit it with the grabby hands, Princess Useless." Slapping her hands away, Cordy stepped away from Buffy, but the noblewoman followed and continued to use the taller girl as a shield. With a sigh, she gave up and turned back to the fight. "Angel, you can't kill it. It's some poor idiot magically trapped in his bad choice of a Halloween costume."

"You couldn't have said something earlier?" Angel turned in full game face and snarled at the unrepentant teen, still grappling with the furious reptile.

"Oh, stop complaining. I'm saying something now."

With a gasp Lady Elizabeth pulled away from the maid in horror. This man was a monster and still the woman conversed with it with ease. She must be a witch, a servant of the devil, after Elizabeth's very soul. And the other was still there, watching it all with those evil animal eyes that glowed with the light of hell itself. "These horrors are no mere visions. You have bewitched me. I'll not stay here amongst demons."

She threw open the front door and dashed out into the night, ignoring Angel's shout behind her. "Buffy! No!"

"Oh, faboo. I suppose you want to go track her down now." Cordy asked the vampire, once he'd knocked lizard boy out.

"We need to find her before she gets hurt. She's not the Slayer right now, and she's even more helpless because she doesn't know anything about this time period." Angel brushed the broken glass off of himself quickly. As he left Cordelia looked back at the Xander-cat who'd been watching everything with the utmost glee.

"The chase is on, the prize is winning the race, but who shall claim the prize in the end? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you join the race? You see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"

"God, you are like totally weirder than usual aren't you?" Cordy questioned as she followed the vampire, who'd followed the Slayer, who'd run off.

"You have no idea." The power cut out, leaving nothing but a bright white smile and slit yellow cat eyes glowing in the darkness.

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= TBC =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

A/N:

Good god, writing the Cheshire cat is difficult, it's even worse trying to keep tabs on who's got Scooby-speak, Spike-isms, Cordy snark, or the Lords proper English going on. Let it be said that dialogue is not easy.

"Beware the… …frumious Bandersnatch!" – "I wonder if I've been changed… …Ah, that's the great puzzle!" – "'You are old, Father William,' the young man said, 'and your hair has become very white.'" – "Be what you would seem to be… …appeared to them to be otherwise." - "You see, it takes all the running… …you must run at least twice as fast as that!" – Direct Lewis Carroll Quotes

I tried to write wilting wallflower Buffy, but she's kinda turned into more of a scary arrogant Lady Macbeth type. I kinda like it better this way.

Distribution: FFN (Lightning_Skies), Twisting the Hellmouth (LightningSkies)

Author has given no other permissions. Message if you want it.

3,809 Words - 8 Pages – 10/27/09


	3. Oh, My Ears and Whiskers

_**Therefore I'm Mad**_

Lightning_Skies

Spoilers/Warnings/Pairings/Disclaimer – See first chapter

_Italics_ - Singing

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= Chapter 3 – Oh, My Ears and Whiskers =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

Ethan was deep in a scrying trance, watching gleefully as the Hellmouth was overrun by his unleashed spell, when a prickling sensation of being watched shook him from his meditative state. His astral essence flowed back down the thread of energy tying him to his body, the feeling of observation growing stronger as he approached his physical form, abandoned in the ritual room he'd set up in his costume shoppe. The mage was concerned to sense a presence tainted with chaos magick near his prone and quite helpless flesh. His modified transfiguration spell had been enacted on such a massive scale that fail-safes and personal wards against attack were impossible. Anarchy was a dual bladed weapon, striking back at the user as often as it was successfully wielded and on this night he was as vulnerable to his creations as any other target.

He quickly realigned his drifting spirit into his body and opened his physical eyes, finding himself nose to nose with an intruder and staring deep into brightly burning xanthous pupils from mere inches away. He watched, spellbound, as a long slow blink slid a nictitating membrane over the large eyes. The dilated and cat-slit sulfur irises eclipsed his entire field of vision and he could see flecks of brown and incandescent light flickering deep in the delicate stroma. The bright yellow color registered in his mind and his first thought was that he was about to be bitten by a vampire, but as instinct made him reel back from the danger, he realized that wasn't the case. Crouched in front of him and leaning deep into his personal space was one of Giles's kiddies, the Slayer's little friend who had bought prepackaged cat ears, inspecting him curiously.

The former teenaged boy seemed to have cobbled together a new identity that wasn't one of the pre-planned personages the brit had deliberately stocked, the only items he recognized from his wares being the ears and tail. Ethan was delighted to note that whatever the costume had been based on, it was a creature of power. He felt it's strength and puckish nature flowing in the air around the boy, mixing with his natural aura rather than simply suppressing or overlaying it. How perfect. He found himself mentally praising the creativity of the youth in designing his own costume. Ethan couldn't have done much better himself.

The boy was likely to retain some form of after-effects from the spell, even when Ripper, inevitably (and likely prematurely) ended his fun. It was fitting that the spirit possessing the boy was both highly powerful and mischievous, much like it's magical creator. The boy's loyalties might even change after all-hallows eve ended. At the very least he would end up a good deal more pernicious than Ripper's strict Watcher persona would be comfortable with. The boy would be lost in a world of moral grays where 'Giles' had spent the last twenty years desperately trying to paint everything in nicely segregated black and white tones. Ethan smiled at his guest, he sensed no malicious intent, merely eager inquisitiveness and the familiar duality of childishly condescending amusement. This was a fellow son of pandemonium.

When the creature saw that it had his attention it shot him a dazzling smile full of abnormally whitened teeth that glinted merrily in the candlelight. "How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws!"

He thought the capricious feline might be praising him on his spell-work, but the comment seemed open to interpretation."'I didn't know that Cheshire-Cats always grinned; in fact, I didn't know cats could grin.'" He quoted back without hesitation, he may prefer his life of flaunting authority, but he was still well educated. "Louis Carroll. I always liked him, writing total drivel and making scholars fall all over themselves trying to divine the deeper meaning behind it. A grand prankster after my own heart, assuming I have one. There's been some debate on that score."

"I almost wish I hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole - and yet - and yet - it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what can have happened to me! When I used to read fairy tails, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought!"

"So, you're self aware enough to sense the spell and know that you aren't supposed to be here, then?"

The cat creature nodded briefly and turned away from him to inspect the altar and bust of Janus that was pulsing with energy and had radiant green eyes bright enough to match the humanoid Cheshire-cat's own. The boy peered curiously into the younger male aspect's eyes undeterred by the power radiating out of the statue, his ears perked forward in focused intent, then, abruptly losing interest, he slank smoothly in the way of cats everywhere around to the other, older facet with a flourish, his long tail trailing behind him. "One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter. And now which is which?"

"Janus." Ethan agreed, coming to believe that he could understand the creature's meaning, even if his words were unclear. What a wonderful child of anarchy, even simple conversation was confusing and wrought with discord. "God of beginnings and ends, gateways, the transition from past to future, the middle ground between youth and adulthood."

"And the lost boys refused to ever grow up."

Ethan looked at the cat in bemusement, watching it poke at the flame on one of the ceremonial candles without seeming to incur any burns. "Well, that's interesting. From Wonderland to Neverland, Carroll to Barrie. You're aware of the spell and have begun breaking through the magicks on your own. Fascinating."

Rather than responding, the cat's large pointed ears swiveled suddenly to point at the storefront. A moment later Ethan heard the door open with a jingle and footsteps enter the store. He wasn't surprised at all to hear Ripper calling out, "Hello? Anyone here?"

The ex-demon summoner turned devoted chaos mage dearly wished to see Ripper's reaction to the transformation of the boy, but it wasn't to be as the young redheaded part of the Watcher's brood saw her friend through the curtains. "Xander? What are you doing here?"

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, because I'm not myself you see." With a wave and a twirl the Cheshire-cat possessed teen vanished, leaving Ethan to face Ripper's wrath on his own. The chaos mage smiled, the boy had truly become an ideal acolyte of disquiet. He wondered what would be left of the creature when the spell ended, wishing he could be there to see it.

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

Drusilla had chased off all of the minions to the far reaches of the factory, frightening them with her good cheer. She hummed a discordant song, one part dirge and two parts the faded memories of her mother's favorite lullaby, as she twirled around a table deep in the heart of Sunnydale's defunct shipping factory. The long table had been set with nearly a dozen place settings, of all different styles and sizes. A large, chipped, forest green ceramic mug, stamped with the words "Espresso Pump" loomed over-large on it's delicate bone china saucer, while a delicate iridescent champagne flute was flanked on either side by a half crumpled Styrofoam cup stained with coffee residue and a 'Kiss Me I'm Irish' shot glass.

"Everything must be perfect. The children scream songs of mice and toy soldiers that grow bigger and false faces that don't come off, but when the midnight hour strikes, the coach turns back into a pumpkin and the Masquerade will be over." She shifted the beer stein in front of her to the left an inch and surveyed the table proudly. "The tea! Mustn't forget the tea. Loosed leaves pluck-pluck-plucked from the trees because papa likes it fresh. Kept always in the tin in the cupboard behind the sherry. But Daddy shattered the cupboard, smashed the sherry, crushed the tin and ground the tea to dirt beneath his boot. Shouldn't have invited him in. Tried to warn them. Told them all. Shouldn't ever invite them in, they are messy, horrible visitors and they don't like tea… but it is a host's duty to serve the guests their favored drink."

She moved into the shadows under the metal walkways lining the old assembly room. The freshly killed body of a young blonde man hung limply from a girder. His throat had been cut and slow, fat drops of blood rolled down his face, catching gently in his eyelashes before dripping down into the cheerful floral printed teapot that had been placed on the floor. Drusilla swiped a finger across one bloody cheek, slicing the skin open with her razor sharp fingernail, and popped it in her mouth, rolling the digit around her tongue considering the flavor. "Weak tea is a sign of poverty or intended insult. We shall have none of that here." She glared into the dead teen's death-glazed eyes. "You bring shame to a centuries old tradition of hospitality. Daddy shall whip you when he returns, and granmummy's voice shall become shrill. The party is all ruined, and the bridesmaids cry over their dirtied dresses and wilted flowers. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The rope creaked slightly as the body spun slowly, presenting the illusion that the boy was hiding his face away in shame. "Colonists only drink coffee? How awful!"

She cocked her head to the side listening to the silence around her, before smiling and patting the body on the cheek. wiping away the blood that had pooled in the dip of the eye socket. "Well, that's easy enough to fix. No need for tears." She retrieved a small, crushed cardboard box labeled 'Tea Sampler' and plopped a bag of Black Cherry Berry, one of Vanilla Chai and a third of Peppermint into the teapot and stirred it with one of the limp hands hanging nearby. She wiped the bloody hand over the boy's lips, poking his fingers into his mouth, "That's how you're supposed to make tea, silly."

She carried the congealing, flavored horror to the table and began pouring large messy globules of gore into the arranged drink-ware. "More sugar, Miss Edith? One lump or two?" As she served all the settings, she placed squares of sugar randomly in the various cups with delicate silver tongs, some ended up containing more sugar than blood.

"_A cat and her kittens came tumbling in. With a rowley, powley, gammon, and spinach…_ I saw you coming my Kitten." Drusilla turned to the iron stairs in the corner with a smile just in time to see her Dark Kitten appear out of thin air. But something was wrong. Her smile faltered and she moaned in horror, "It's YOU! No, No, No, NO. You don't fit. Miss Edith says that you are the wrong Kitten. The bright sparkly Cat has eaten my Dark Kitten. Long claws and shiny teeth." She snapped her fangs at the Cheshire Cat. "The Dark Kitten isn't for eating. Oh, spit him out. You aren't hardly dark enough. No room, no room!"

She spread herself out, taking up as much space around her lace covered table as possible and embracing her tea set protectively with her arms.

"The cat that catches no mice does not earn his keep. When you play with a cat you must bear it's scratches. Kittens may grow to become cats, but cats are kittens never again." She muttered as she guarded her silver tea tray and watched the Cat prowl around the room. He picked up one of the teacups and tilted his head one way and his hand the other as he inspected the contents.

"The drink of life can be potent if offered freely." Her remarked, turning the cup over and shaking it, without dislodging the sticky red mess inside.

"No tea for those with dirty paws. It's rude to invite yourself to someone else's party." Drusilla screeched as she lunged at the pink and purple Cat who had snatched up her Kitten's invitation in his absence. The brightly shining Cat disappeared from her raking nails and the cup shattered on the floor, a large red flower blooming across the concrete. Infuriated, she turned around to see that he had stolen her teapot and was pouring himself a steaming cup of lemon tea making her nose twitch with the sting of citrus. The Cat closed his eyes and took a deep breath of scented vapor obviously savoring it.

Drusilla saw her chance and crept toward him silently, but stopped short just out of arms reach. She turned to stare at the wall, squinting as if to bring something into focus. She pouted dramatically, "Alice has caught the rabbit. Silly Alice."

She turned back to find that the not-Kitten had disappeared, leaving her teapot sitting on the table. She snatched it into her arms, cradling it close and stroking it gently. "Once dark falls all Cats become panthers, dressing their claws in silence and prowling the darkness, but come the rise of the sun they are revealed as Kittens again."

Giggling to herself in joy, the mad vampress of Aurelius squeezed the teapot too hard in her excitement and the spout broke off, spilling bloody gore all over her hand and the floor. She brought her dripping red fingers to her mouth and sucked on them, lips smacking as she meticulously sucked the liquid off of each one. "Dark Kittens with silky fur need to be loved and cared for, and mean old nasty Cats can just go away and be forgotten."

She sang to herself as she swayed and stared off into space, seeing things no one else could.

"_There were once two cats of Kilkenny._

_Each thought there was one cat too many;_

_So they fought and they fit,_

_And they scratched and they bit,_

_Till, excepting their nails,_

_And the tips of their tails,_

_Instead of two cats, there weren't any._"

-/-/-/-\-\-\-

"How are you getting on?" Spike paused in his pursuit of the Slayer's group to watch as the cat-boy from before slowly materialized, smiling broadly at him. Oddly enough, he had a steaming cup of tea with him and he nonchalantly took a sip as chaos reigned around him.

"Couldn't stay away, pet?" The blonde passed him by and ran to catch up with his assembled mob just in time to see Angel and the magically hobbled Slayer hide away in a warehouse, while the largest and strongest of the hunters begin an assault on the reinforced door between them and their prey. The broody one was nearly silent, but he could hear the racing of the two human girl's hearts as the Halloween monsters battered at the hastily blocked door. One of them shrieked as the door shifted with a crunch, and began whimpering, he salivated at the thought that it might be the Slayer.

The cat-boy had finished his tea and was crunching his way through a large bite he'd taken out of the lip of his cup. His tail draped itself over his shoulder and hooked through the handle, attempting to pull it out of his grasp, but he paid it no mind, getting into a passive aggressive tug-o-war with his own rogue appendage almost absentmindedly. He was too busy watching Spike watch his minions. "There's no sort of sense in knocking, and that is for two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you are: secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you. There might be some sense in your knocking if we had the door between us. For instance if you were _inside_, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know."

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike caught sight of the boy casually crouched on stack of wooden cargo pallets, staring at him in fixation, never bothering to blink his over-large eyes or shift his stance (aside from the casual disagreement over possession of his teacup, which saw neither side giving any ground.) "M'not exactly the type for manners and niceties. Not when violence and cruelty get things done so much faster."

Spike looked on incredulously as the feline finally yielded the victory to his determinedly thieving hind end and the purple and pink striped monstrosity curled around it's new acquisition smugly, the tip flicking energetically in self congratulation. The Cat took no notice and declared decisively, "No one shall be admitted without an invitation from the Queen."

With a protesting shriek of metal, the door caved in and Spike turned to the boy triumphantly, high on his nearing kill. "That enough of an invitation?"

It was almost anti-climactic how easy it was, Spike thought in dismay as the trick-or-treaters grappled Angel and the bitchy playboy cat-girl into submission before he'd gotten fully through the door. He walked straight through the redhead as she phased through the demon trying to restrain her and stood between the vampire and the completion of his hat trick of slain Slayers. The 'Lady Elizabeth' positively cowered as he stalked forward, scrambling away until her back pressed up against a forklift. She was crying so hard she had started hiccuping and her face had turned an unattractive shade of blotchy red. He allowed his fangs to drop and hissed at her in disappointment. "This is pathetic. I was hoping for more of a fight, the thrill of a challenging chase. I'm almost ashamed to be the one to put you out of your misery."

The overwhelming fear in her eyes was tempered with a glint of hope, but he dashed her raising spirits when he continued with a laugh, "Who am I kidding. I'm going to love putting you out of your misery."

"Spike! Don't!" Angel struggled against the large demon holding him back, his fists and arms held tight by muscular limbs encased in brackish black-grey scales. He flinched when the claws tightened on his shoulders, puncturing through the leather and biting into his flesh.

The blonde vampire ignored him and loomed over the noblewoman, dragging her roughly to her feet, making her cry out and cringe back, bent awkwardly over the operators seat. With a growl, Spike backhanded her, snapping her head to the side. He gripped her hair and shook her, "Quit your whining, Slayer. I'm being generous and letting you die on your feet."

"Xander are you crazy? He's going to kill her! Do something!" Willow screamed, doing her best to windmill Spike into submission but her flailing arms passed through him without causing so much as a flinch or shiver. The corners of her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she finally admitted to herself that there was nothing she could do but watch and collapsed to her knees, sinking slightly into the concrete floor. She turned imploring translucent eyes on the Cheshire Cat that had taken over her oldest friend and willed him to come to the rescue without hesitation the way he would have on any other night. "Xander, please…"

"But I AM crazy." The Cat just watched the unfolding events with a detached expression of interest, "You see a dog growls when it's angry and wags it's tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore, I'm mad."

Spike was distracted from his simpering meal when he felt a brief tingle down his spine and turned to find that his merry gang of demonic thugs had reverted to sniveling tots whining for their mummies. He felt the hair under his hand give way and pulled the brunette wig off of the Slayer. He could see the beginning of a smirk on her lips when a scream caught their attention. They both turned, frozen in their somewhat less than amorous embrace as they caught sight of someone who hadn't reverted to normal.

A still purple and animalistic Xander cried out in pain and grabbed his head in agony. His knees hit the concrete floor with a thump as he collapsed in on himself, his body curling protectively as he desperately clutched at fistfuls of his hair. The last thing Buffy saw as he faded out of existence was the purple leeching out of his hair and his ears and clawed fingernails receding. Then he was gone.

"Xander!"

=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*= TBC =*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=

A/N:

This chapter is dedicated to LLN who tried to bribe me into updating faster a few months ago with Femme!Xander goodness. Sorry it's shortish, but I wanted to get the Halloween episode over with and this was just too perfect a cliffy to keep going. Next up is the always awkward morning after stuff where I finally reveal how Catty the new improved Xander will be.

Ok, this chapter was weird. I was wrestling with my Spike!Muse since he apparently wanted to just sit this chapter out. Meanwhile, an Ethan!Muse, I didn't even know I had, moved in and set himself up in a way that forces me to write more about him later. Durned interloping drama queen of chaos. Then Xander!Muse decided that he just HAD to know what Dru!Muse was up to RIGHT NOW, letting Spike escape until the end of the chapter. It's a conspiracy. Neither the Dru or Ethan scenes were planned, they just sort of popped out. The 'tea party' scene ended up being a lot darker than I intended. Who let that dead body sneak in there? Bad dead body, now I won't be able to drink tea for a few days without getting icky feelings about it.

Distribution: FFN (Lightning_Skies), Twisting the Hellmouth (LightningSkies)  
Author has given no other permissions.  
3,455 Words – 09/03/10


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